Horcrux Love
by Amanda Samsam
Summary: We all know that love is a powerful magic, but has one ever tested its boundaries? Hermione becomes the protagonist of her own life story when she is captured by the dark side. Will she be able to unearth the deepest secrets of the wizard that the world feared the most? How true is the belief that there is no good and evil, and there is only power, and those too weak to seek it?
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:

Dear readers,

This is my first attempt of writing a fanfiction for the rare but beautiful and intriguing ship of Tom Marvolo Riddle/Lord Voldemort and Hermione Granger. I have got the whole story planned out, but I am not sure whether it is a good story. Please give me some review after reading this chapter. I will decide whether to continue the story once I have read your feedback. Do not be afraid to give me honest feedback. I am quite open to accept criticisms, as I believe that this is how one gets to improvise on what he or she is doing. I am currently working on the plot for this story, so there will be some changes along the way as the story progresses.

I hope all of you will enjoy reading this story, as much as I enjoyed playing around with the characters and writing it.

Happy reading!

^^ Amanda Samsam ^^

Disclaimer: the rights of Harry Potter remain with the respective author, the wonderful J.K. Rowling and other publishers/producers. I do not own anything, except the plot of the story and a few original characters that I created in order to fit into my story. This disclaimer applies to all the chapters in this story.

Note to readers: this story is not cannon-compliant. I changed certain things in the story to suit my plot.

Chapter 1: The Order Betrayed

"I want all of us to take off at the same time!" Moody growled, as he swung his wooden leg with immense difficulty over his broomstick, Mundungus Fletcher trailing behind him reluctantly. "Otherwise, there is no point for the plan at all!"

The others nodded in agreement. All six fake Harry Potters tightened their grip on their means of transport, making themselves comfortable before the long journey.

Hermione gripped the back of Kingsley's cloak tightly. She was feeling uneasy. For one thing, she was riding on an invisible creature, and this did not help much. Although she had travelled on a thestral before, when she accompanied Harry to the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius during her fifth year, she still felt jumpy. She did not like heights, even when she was a small girl.

For another thing, she was sure that the plan would not work out as planned. She could foresee the loopholes in this plan, but she dare not raise her objections, as it had taken careful and calculated planning from everyone in the Order. She was just an inexperienced member, too young to comment or make any suggestions. She knew that everyone in the order have Harry's best interests at heart. She did not want to ruin things by disagreeing over such a major plan. Besides, she could see that there was no other way around this problem. It had to be this way, and she knew perfectly well that no other plans will work out as well as this one.

They have no other alternative. The Ministry of Magic had been infiltrated by Death Eaters, and all Floo networks have been monitored tightly. If Harry apparated, the Death Eaters will know about it, as he still got the trace on him, as he was not of age yet. Last minute adjustments had to be made before all of them came to Privet Drive. She could still remember the tense moments when all of them were sitting at the kitchen table at the Burrow. Frustration was at its peak for everyone.

There was almost a row. Hermione did not dare to mention it to Harry back in his aunt and uncle's house. She was sure Harry would not want to corporate if he heard about the row. She could still see the guilty look on his face as he handed some of his hairs to Moody to be added into the Polyjuice potion. Hermione could tell that Harry was worried for everyone's safety. She understood how he was feeling at that moment. The burden of saving the wizarding world from the domination of the darkest wizard of all time lies solely on Harry's shoulders. Hermione felt pity for him, but she knew deep down that she could do nothing about it. She could only stand alongside Harry in this battle, providing him with the support he needed.

She knew that Ron would do the same thing for Harry. Both she and Ron had come to an understanding at the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts, after the tragic and untimely death of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all time and the only one that the dark lord ever feared. An understanding that they will both give Harry every inch of support he needed, as they were the only one that Harry trusted and called friends. They had been through many hurdles together, and all three of them have each other to look out for.

Ron's loyalty to Harry as a friend was tested just before they left from the Burrow a few hours ago.

As the tension increased, everyone became bad-tempered. They were running out of time, and they still have not come to a consensus on the plan.

It was after everything had been settled that the row started.

Mrs. Weasley and Ron was having a heated argument at one end of the table, whereas at another end of the table, Moody and Mundungus were raising their wands and pointing it at each other.

"I told you, Mad-eye," shrieked Mundungus, his voice sounding hoarse and panicky. "I am not coming. I just made suggestions, that is all."

"Shut up, you filthy scoundrel! You are coming because we have no other choice! We're one member short! Diggle and Jones couldn't join us as they have to attend to the boy's relatives!" Moody sounded bad-tempered, and looked as though he was about to throw something.

"Don't call me a scoundrel!" Mundungus sneered, raising his wand.

"Going to curse me, are you?" bellowed Moody, gripping his wand so tightly that his gnarled knuckles turned white. Sparks shot out from the end of his wand.

"Oh, for God's sake, the both of you!" exclaimed Tonks, standing between both of them. "That's quite enough. We don't have much time . . . watcher, Dung!"

Mundungus ducked behind Tonks just in time as one of Moody's spells burst out from the tip of his wand. The jet of red light soared passed Mundungus' face, missing him by an inch. It crashed into one of the wooden chairs behind Mundungus. There was a deafening crash and bang as the chair exploded when the spell impacted on it.

"Reparo!" Hermione said hastily, waving her wand casually. Instantly, the chair mended itself and was as good as new.

"Sorry about that," growled Moody. "Lost my temper. I am warning you, Mundungus. Any funny business, any at all, and I'll make sure that I'll deal with you personally when we have completed our task."

Mundungus nodded resentfully, throwing Moody's wand a fearful but at the same time contemptuous look.

Hermione's head was throbbing painfully. She could not stand this any longer. She hoped that they will be able to make a move soon.

"We will wait for Kingsley, and then we'll be off," said Moody, checking the time by looking at the clock on the mantelpiece.

"He's a bit late," Lupin said, sounding worried.

"Probably summat at the Muggle Prime Minister," boomed Hagrid. He too, Hermione noted, was looking worried.

"I'll check the bike and see if it's all righ'" Hagrid trailed off, standing up with immense difficulty due to his bulky built.

"I'll go with you," Mr. Weasley offered.

There was a sudden high-pitched yell from the opposite end of the kitchen table. Hermione jumped slightly, and turned her head in Mrs. Weasley's direction. It seemed that the row between Ron and his mother have reached its breaking point.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley said, her voice rising. "Talk some sense into Ron, will you? He just won't . . ."

"I want to be involved!" Ron bellowed at his mother at the top of his voice. "You heard Mad-eye. We are one member short, and there is not much time left!"

"Then, I'll go instead. You stay here and take care of Ginny. You can wait for us," Mrs. Weasley stated.

"Molly, don't be silly," growled Moody. "We're done planning all this and I think you'd do better to stay out of it . . ."

"Are you doubting my capabilities, Mad-eye?" snapped Mrs. Weasley, her eyes blazing. "Have you forgotten that I, like all of you, have fought in the Order before in the first wizarding war against You-Know-Who? Do you think that after so many years of being a housewife, babysitting my children, that I have lost my touch?"

"Mum," said Ginny, putting a hand on her mother's shoulder. "I'm sure that everything'll be fine. Trust the Order."

"Ginny, you keep out of this. You are not to join them, because you-are-not-of-age!" Mrs. Weasley was bursting with anger now. Hermione could not blame her. Half of her family are going to risk their lives tonight, just to bring Harry to safety. Hermione was sure that deep down inside, Mrs. Weasley was worried sick about all of them. She would have done the same if she was in Mrs. Weasley's shoes.

"No, I am not joining," said Ginny bitterly. "You know that everyone would not have allowed it, even if I volunteered."

"Quite right," said Bill, looking sternly at his sister. "You stay here with Mum, and wait for us to return."

"Sounds great," Ginny retorted, sounding resentful.

"That's the only sensible thing that happened tonight," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply as though she had run a great marathon.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said. "Stay here with Ginny. Arthur, I'll be ready in a moment. I'll join you . . ."

"For the last time, mum!" Ron shouted. "I-am-of-age!" 

"So? What are you saying? That you are more capable than your own mother?"

"Molly," said Mr. Weasley, looking tired. "Give it a rest, will you. Ron's of age, and he has the right to decide things for himself."

"I am going with them. Harry needs my help. I am his best mate," said Ron with a determined look on his face.

"Do you realise how dangerous this will be? Do you have any idea how I . . . I mean, your whole family will feel if you . . . if you . . ."

"Mum, shut it," said Fred, giving his mother a painful look. "We'll look after ickle Ronikins for you. He won't lose a hair when we're around. Right, George?"

Fred turned to his twin for support.

"Right you are, brother," said George. "Don't worry, mum."

"You may be killed! So young, innocent and inexperienced!" shriek Mrs. Weasley, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at everyone around her, as though daring any one of them to contradict her.

"Then I'll die proudly," said Ron fiercely, his blue eyes blazing with a flame that Hermione had never seen before. "With no regrets," he finished.

The whole kitchen went silent. Everyone turned to look at Ron. Hermione gazed at him. Her insides swelled up happily. Ron was so brave, fearless of everything. She was proud to be his friend.

Mrs. Weasley looked as though Ron had just stunned her. Her expression was unreadable for a moment. Then, bursting into tears, she pulled Ron into a tight hug.

"You're so . . . brave . . . Just like a true fighter . . ." she sobbed, kissing Ron fiercely on both cheeks.

"Geroff, mum," said Ron, freeing himself from his mother gently. "I'll be fine. We'll all be fine."

"Ron, I am very proud to have you as a son," Mr. Weasley said, his eyes swimming with pride as he ruffled Ron's ginger hair.

Ron's ears turned scarlet at the attention everyone was giving him. He spared a glance in Hermione's direction. She smiled at him and gave him a reassuring nod.

There was a tiny pop from outside the garden.

"Kingsley's here," Moody said. "Come on, everyone. Time to go!"

"Be safe," Mrs. Weasley hugged each of her children and Hermione as they filed out of the backdoor after Moody, who was walking with some difficulty as he was carrying two large bulging sacks, which contained everything they needed to carry out the plan.

"We'll come back safe and sound, Molly," said Lupin, giving her a thumbs-up. "Don't worry."

"Take care, all of you," said Ginny, waving from the kitchen window, as Moody took out his wand to dissolution all of them.

And they were off a few minutes later.

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts by Moody's voice.

"If either of us get killed," said Moody, his magical eye spinning so fast that it looked as though it will pop out of its socket any moment, as he surveyed the surroundings cautiously. "The rest will carry on. Don't look back or try to help. It'll only make things worse, mark my words!"

"No one is going to die tonight, Mad-eye," said Lupin quietly. "Voldemort didn't know about the plan, remember?"

Even as he said this, he gazed away from the group, casting his gaze downwards. He sounded unsure, and everybody did not even bother to question him or argue with him on this point.

"'urry up, we'll 'ave to get going," said Fleur, breaking the tension. "Good luck, every'one."

"Right," said Moody, tightening his grip on his broomstick. "Mundungus, don't you dare chicken out of this. You'd have known better if you do so."

"Shut it," muttered Mundungus, glowering at Moody.

Moody ignored this last comment, looked around to check that everyone was prepared for the journey and then took out his wand from his travelling cloak pocket.

"On the count of three!" he said slowly. "One . . . two . . . three!"

"Hold tight, Hermione," said Kingsley as he nudged the thestral's side gently. With a jerk, the creature spread out its enormous wings and they rose upwards into the air.

The night was clear, but not a single star twinkled above them as they fly out of Privet Drive. The cold wind sent chills down Hermione's spine. The wind buzzing in her ears as they soared higher and higher into the air. Her small hands were freezing. She clutched Kingsley's shoulders tightly as the thestral gathered up speed and sped on into the dark sky.

Just as they rounded a corner, Hermione knew instantly that something was wrong. There was something wrong. The air around them was suddenly tense. A dozen hooded figures materialised into the night sky, each riding on a broomstick.

Kingsley was tense as he leaned forwards on his thestral, urging it to speed up.

"Kingsley," Hermione whispered. "I think . . ."

"We are betrayed," Kingsley finished flatly. "They knew."

"What . . ."

But she did not get to finish her sentence.

There was a bang behind them. Hermione turned around just in time to see a jet of green light flying in their direction.

Kingsley's wand was out in an instant. He deflected the jet of green light, and sends a few stunners flying into the night sky.

"Your wand, Potter!" Kingsley bellowed, as he stunned a hooded figure who was gliding towards them.

Hermione knew that Kingsley was saying this in order to confuse the Death Eaters. With a flick of her wrist, her wand was in her hand. She had practiced to cast non-verbally and was very good at it now. She figured that she will have an advantage over some of the Death Eaters.

"Stupefy!" she thought. A jet of red light flew out from the tip of her wand, and hit another of the hooded figures. He gasped, too late to realise what happened, failed to duck in time and fall out of sight as her stunner hit him squarely in the chest.

More Death Eaters were surrounding them now. Hermione and Kingsley continued onwards, urging the thestral who was clearly frightened to speed up.

"Watch out!" Hermione screamed, as one of the spells sent by one of the Death Eaters from behind them missed Kingsley by an inch.

"Keep casting!" said Kingsley.

Hermione turned around just in time to see two Death Eaters lunging forwards, trying to grab her off the thestral.

"Potter, you're dead," leered one of them. His hood flapped in the wind, revealing the face of Antonin Dolohov.

Anger rise up in Hermione. Dolohov had injured her back in the Department of Mysteries, and she was going to get back at him for this.

Unknown to Harry and Ron, Hermione have been studying the dark arts during the weeks after Dumbledore's funeral. She figured that it will come in handy someday. However, she had sweared that she will only use it when necessary. She was not ruthless, like Lord Voldemort.

She figured that she would have to control her anger now. There was no good cursing Dolohov now. Their priority was to save Harry's life. She hoped with all her might that Hagrid had reached Tonks' parents' place by now. He will be in great danger if Lord Voldemort joined the chase, and Hermione know that Harry would not have a chance once the dark lord gets himself involved.

"Since when I think of him as the dark lord?" Hermione thought, scandalous. "He was a villain. The most ruthless, evil villain that I've ever known."

A bang made her jump. Kingsley was now duelling with Dolohov and one of his partners. It looks that they were outnumbered, as three more Death Eaters joined the fight.

"Impedementa!" Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at one of the large Death Eaters on Dolohov's right. The Death Eater ducked just in time and her jinx crashed into a nearby skyscraper. There was a deafening explosion.

Kingsley shot a final stunner at Dolohov before turning to the thestral again.

"No, you don't!" sneered Dolohov as he lunged forward. Kingsley nudged the thestral harder and the creature reared up instantly. They gathered up speed. But Hermione could tell that they were losing the battle.

Then, Hermione could feel herself slip sideways. She holds onto Kingsley tightly, but something was pulling her backwards, away from the thestral. She looked around, and saw that Dolohov had his wand out, pointing it at her. Invisible ropes were drawing her away from Kingsley.

Realising what was happening, Hermione dropped all pretence, and gripped her wand tightly. There was no use of hiding what she could do now. If she was captured before they reached their destination, the plan will be ruined. The Death Eaters will torture information out of her before killing her, and she was not ready to die in their hands. There are still the horcruxes. She needs to help Harry to destroy the horcruxes.

"Avada kedavra!"

"Look out, Potter!" Kingsley shouted, as a jet of green light whizzed past Hermione's ear. Kingsley deflected it with his wand.

After making sure that Kingsley was safe, Hermione turned back to face Dolohov. The ropes were pulling her further away from Kingsley. She was almost near the thestral's tail, she gathered, judging by the soft swishing she felt under her. She would have to act fast.

Directing her wand at Dolohov, she raises it and brought it down in a slashing motion, as she thought: "Sanguinem haurientus!"

Dolohov screamed as a jet of white light hit him squarely in the chest. His body went limp and he started to fall.

Hermione knew that Dolohov would not return to the fight any moment soon. This was a spell to drain one's blood from his body temporarily. A useful spell to weaken one's enemy, which she had invented and perfected herself.

She could no longer feel the invisible ropes that tried to pull her away. She slid onto the thestral, guiding her fingers through the creature's skeletal body as she could not see it.

"Kingsley . . ."

But she could not finish what she intended to said.

What happened next was too quick. One moment, Kingsley was shooting a spell at the remaining Death Eater, and then, there was a blinding jet of green light, soaring straight at his back. Kingsley had no time to deflect it, as he was unaware of it.

Slowly, with horror written all over her face, Hermione watched as Kingsley's body was blasted upwards into the sky, as the jet of green light hit him squarely in the back. Then, slowly, the limp body arched and began to fall, down, down, down, until it hit the ground with a thud.

"No! Kingsley! Kingsley!" Hermione screamed.

Even as she looked down, daring herself to look at the dark mass below her, she knew that he was dead. Kingsley Shacklebolt, just like many others who fought in the Order of the Phoenix, had fallen.

She would not let Kingsley die in vain. She will fight on.

Covering her face in fear, Hermione gripped the thestral tightly, and turned around. She had to make a detour and find the others. There was no other choice. She would not let them die.

As she turned, a horrible sight met her eyes. A pale mass was gliding towards her. He was flying without a broomstick, with both hands outstretched, gliding gracefully as though his body was floating like the clouds in the sky. A wand was gripped in one pale hand, with long, slender and white fingers. Hairless, with sunken cheeks, red gleaming eyes and a lipless mouth, the figure lunged forward.

It was Lord Voldemort.

Panicking, Hermione spun her wand quickly, drawing a wide arc around her and the thestral. "Defensiva bulla!"

A white bubble erupted from the tip of her wand, enclosing her and the thestral tightly in it.

"Protago totalum!" Hermione casted, and the bubble glowed blue, enclosing her tightly.

She looked up just in time to see the look of mingled surprise and shock on Voldemort's face. She had caught him by surprise, she gathered.

Thinking that this was her chance, Hermione casted one last spell to distract Voldemort.

"Anguis ignisus!"

Fire burst from the tip of her wand. The flames began to form the shape of a huge snake, which started to glide in Voldemort's direction. Glancing over her shoulder to see the look of shock on Voldemort's face, Hermione pressed her ankle into the testral's side, urging it to turn around and sped off into the night as the creature gathered up speed. She was temporarily safe for now, as she was enclosed in the bubble she created.

"Point me," she thought, flicking her wand casually after a few minutes. An arrow emerged from the tip of her wand, pointing westwards.

Hermione knew that she was a few miles away from where Ron and tonks are supposed to fly. They will be heading straight to the Burrow. Her heart was thumping loudly as she guided the thestral westwards.

Ron must be all right, she kept telling herself. Ron will be fine. All of them will be fine. There will not be anymore deaths tonight. She would not let it happen.

(Flash back)

"Hermione," Ron spoke her name softly. They were sitting side by side on the sofa in the sitting room in the Burrow. "Can I have a word?"

This was the evening before they are supposed to get Harry to safety. The plan had already been changed.

"Sure," she said. She could sense that he wanted to tell her something important.

"Not here," said Ron. "Come out into the garden. I want to make it private."

"Okay, Ron," she said, laying down the book that she was reading and following him out into the garden.

They walked for a few minutes before Ron said quietly: "Walk with me, will you?"

She quickened her strides, and was beside him in a few seconds.

"What is it?" she asked him, looking worried.

Ron was quiet for a few minutes. They continued to walk. They were out of the garden by now, and were walking along a twisted path bordered by tall hedges which lead towards Ottery St. Catchpole.

As they reached a fork in the road, Ron turned right and Hermione followed him. They walked on until she could hear the sound of water splashing in the distance.

"Up here," said Ron, as he started to climb a steep hill after walking on for a few more minutes.

Hermione followed him up the hill, her heart racing. She was not sure what Ron was up to. She hoped that he would tell her soon. His manner seemed to be out of place, and she was scared for him.

"Ron, are you . . . are you all right?" she asked, panting slightly as they reached the top.

"I am fine," said Ron. "Just want to show you something. Come on!"

Tentatively, he reached for her hand. Hermione froze for a second, and then place her hand in his.

His large and warm hand covered hers as he led her, it seemed, towards the sound of splashing water. She squeezes his hand gently as they neared a small fountain.

"Ron, it is beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Thought you'll like it," said Ron, letting go of her hand. "I discovered this spot when I got lost in the village when I was five. I came here to clear my thoughts sometimes. Fred and George didn't know about this. I wouldn't take you here if they knew. There won't be a moment's peace with those two around."

He laughed, but Hermione could tell that it was a forced laugh.

They were silent after that. Ron's blue eyes found her hazel brown ones and they gazed at each other.

"Do you remember what you said when we were discussing about the Yule Ball back in our fourth year?" Ron said unexpectedly, still looking at Hermione. The expression on his face was unreadable. "Actually, I've realised it for ages, you know."

"Ron, I don't . . ." Hermione started. She could not see where this conversation was going.

"Well," said Ron, seeming to pick his words as he continued slowly. "you said that Harry and I took long enough to realise that you're a girl . . . remember? I just want you to know that . . . that I've realised it for ages, since second year . . . I mean . . . I would've ask . . . I want to ask you to the ball with me, and I was jealous that you went with Krum instead. And I snogged Lavender because Ginny reckoned that you snogged Krum, and I just want to make you jealous and . . . " he broke off.

Hermione stared at Ron, comprehension dawning on her face.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "I know that, Ron. And you got to me, I felt terrible watching Lavender and you . . . " she trailed off, kicking a few pebbles around the fountain absent-mindedly.

"That's not the point," Ron said stiffly. "The point is . . . the point is . . . I fancy you, Hermione."

Something warm flared up inside Hermione. He finally said it. He finally said what she had been waiting to hear for the past two years.

"I love you, Hermione Granger, as long as I ever lived,: said Ron, as he closed the distance between them.

"Ron, oh, Ron!: with tears swimming in her eyes, she hugged him tightly. His arms were around her petite frame, pressing her softly against him. "I love you too."

"We could have had ages, you know," Ron said softly, stroking her hair. "All the silly bickering . . . what a waste of time . . ."

"Yeah," said Hermione, as Ron brushed her tears away with one of his hands.

"But it is too late now, I guess," Ron said softly. "We are going to be stuck in a war. Cruel thing, fate."

"No, it doesn't make any difference. We can . . . "

"No, Hermione," said Ron softly. "We can't. You have to understand this. We don't know what will happen tomorrow or in the future. I don't want you to be stuck with me because it'll break your heart if I don't survive this battle. I am afraid for everyone, Hermione: for my family, for myself and for you. If anything happen to you, I don't think I have the strength to live on. And it'll be unfair for you to grief for my . . . well, you can just move on, with no regrets and all."

"Neither do I," said Hermione quietly. "I understand. I wouldn't like it to end that way either."

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

"We're still the best of friends," Hermione said, squeezing his shoulder.

"The very best," said Ron softly.

"If I could turn back time, I'll be sure to ask you to the ball before anyone does," he said softly after a few moments of silence, in which they both gazed at each other, understanding each other completely.

"Maybe . . . just maybe . . . if both of us make it out of this battle, alive and all, we could have our own little family."

"That'll be great," said Hermione. "I can already imagine the garden that I would like to have and the plants that I'll want to grow . . ."

"And redheaded children playing in the house . . . " Ron trailed off.

"That'll be nice," Hermione murmured.

"Will you? Will you want to spent the rest of your life with me if we . . . "

"What do you think?" Hermione asked.

"Well, if Viktor Krum comes along some day in the future . . ." Ron trailed off uncertainly.

"I'll be sure to give him an invitation to . . . what you called it . . . our nice little bonding?"

They were standing so close to each other now, that Hermione could count the freckles on Ron's face.

"That's the silver lining that I've been looking for," said Ron into her hair.

Slowly, gently, Ron pulled her towards him. And then, he kissed her. Slowly, she kissed him back. He deepened the kiss, and Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying every moment of it.

"Hey, look! Someone's snogging! Marie, come and look!"

Hermione jumped. Ron released her and she stumbled a bit before getting her footing again. Both of them looked sheepishly at each other, as a few girls from the village emerged from the bushes behind the fountain and peered out at them.

"Let's go," Hermione said in a flustered and embarrassed voice, taking Ron's hand. Without another backwards glance at the group of girls who were now giggling excitedly, both of them started to walk away from the fountain, down the steep hill and back to the Burrow.

(End of flash backs)

Voices around her jolted Hermione out of her thoughts. What was she thinking? She should not be thinking about this kind of things now.

"Hermione, what happened? "a figure was soaring towards her. "And what is this?" the figure pointed to the bubble enclosing her and the thestral.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, recognising him at once. The effects of the Polyjuice potion must have wear off by now, she gathered. She did not know how long they have been flying, but it was certainly more than one hour. She could not even feel her appearance changing, due to her panic.

"Tonks, turn around," Ron was saying. "Something's wrong."

Tonks swung the broom around with a worried look on her face.

"Hermione, why are you alone?" she asked. "Where's . . ."

"He's dead," said Hermione. "I was duelling with Dolohov when it happened. Dolohov had just fallen. Then, Voldemort joined the chase and he . . ."

Tonks was white in the face.

"No!" she said. "Not another one!"

"Moody's dead," said Ron quietly. "We saw it. Mundungus panicked and disapparated when we were surrounded. Then, Voldemort . . . he was flying . . . he killed Moody."

"Someone betrayed us," said Tonks stiffly. "They knew we're moving Harry tonight . . ."

"Listen, Tonks," said Hermione. "We've to get out of here. I'll go with Ron and you to Kingsley's place instead of the Burrow."

She flicked her wand, and the protective bubble around her disappeared.

"But Hermione, we can't turn back now," said Tonks. "We're nearly at the Burrow."

"The Death Eaters and Voldemort will be coming this way. He . . . Voldemort saw me taking off in this direction. If he gets here first, all of us are in great danger. We'll detour and head for Kingsley's instead. I think our portkey will still be there because Kingsley timed it to take off in two hours' time. We can apparate to his house now."

"I suppose . . ."

Tonks broke off as two hooded figures materialised in thin air.

"Wotcher, Hermione, Ron!" Tonks whipped her wand in the air and brought it down, sending stunners at the oncoming Death Eaters.

A mad cackle issued from one of the hooded figures. Hermione froze. She knew that mad cackle very well.

"No, you don't, you filthy bitch!" screeched Belatrix Lestrange as she rounded on Tonks. "Do you think that you can hurt your Aunt Bella, you silly girl? I will finish you tonight, and he will be proud! Avada kedavra!"

"Not so fast, you madwoman! I have no aunt. You are a shame and disgrace to the family!" Tonks shouted as she flourishes her wand at Belatrix, who deflected the spell with a lazy flick of her wand.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Belatrix shrieked. "You will learn to hold your tongue and watch your tone around me, girl! Wondered what my dear sister put into your head, and that filthy Muggle that she married, I couldn't believe her tastes!"

The Death Eater beside Belatrix jeered at them.

"Stupefy!" Ron shouted, pointing his wand at the Death Eater. The stunner crashed into the Death Eater's head, and he started to fall.

"How dare you attack my husband?" Belatrix howled in rage, as she rounded on Ron.

"Sectumsempra!" Hermione bellowed unexpectedly. Caught by surprise, Belatrix failed to dodge the curse, and it grazed her shoulder, creating a deep gash. Blood started to ooze out of the gash.

Gritting her teeth, Belatrix directed her wand at Hermione.

"No, you don't, you filthy little mudblood! Avada kedavra!"

The flash of green light sped towards Hermione. Hermione raise her wand, trying to deflect it, but the thestral, clearly frightened and deciding that it had enough of the adventure, turned and flew directly at the jet of green light, clearly thinking that it will be able to escape from the current predicament.

Hermione nearly lost her balance as she clung onto the thestral for dear life. She raises her wand, trying to deflect the curse, but she was not quick enough.

"Get out of the way, Hermione!" Ron bellowed. Hermione could hear his voice behind her.

She tried to duck, but the jet of green light was closing in on her.

Tonks emerged on her side, deflecting the curse quickly.

"No! Avada kedavra!" Belatrix shrieked again.

"Wotcher, Ron!" shouted Tonks, moving in front of him.

"Expelliarmus!" Belatrix shrieked, and Tonks' wand flew out of her hand, and Belatrix caught it. She smirked triumphantly.

Hermione, now regaining her balance, deflected the killing curse which missed Tonks by inches.

Tonks was now flying straight at Belatrix, anger written all over her face.

"Avada kedavra!"

Hermione turned around just in time to see another Death Eater aiming his wand at Tonks.

"Tonks, watch out . . ." Ron trailed off.

Too late. Tonks was too busy trying to get her wand back from Belatrix, that she failed to notice that her life was in danger. There was a shriek of surprise, as the jet of green light hit her head. Tonks' body seemed to be suspended in mid-air for a while, before it started to slide off the broom and started to fall.

"Ron!" screamed Hermione. Ron, who was sharing the same broom with Tonks was falling along with Tonks.

"Wingardium leviosa!" Ron bellowed, waving his wand desperately. The broom soared up into the air once again.

"Thank you, Rabistin," Belatrix said, cackling madly. "One problem off my hands. Now, let's see. You want to play, mudblood?"

As much as she wanted to curse Belatrix to hell, Hermione knew that she had to get Ron safely away from this place. She has to find out how the rest of them is doing, especially Harry.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said, beckoning him onto the thestral. "Here, look at my hand. The thestral is here. Come on."

"There's no need," said Ron in a cracked voice. "I saw it."

"You . . . oh," said Hermione, comprehension dawning on her face. With a feeling of dread, she looked down and sure enough, she could see the skeletal body of the thestral. They have witnessed death, and were now able to see thestrals, just like Harry.

Ron directed his broom towards Hermione and was just climbing onto the back of the thestral behind Hermione when Rabistin, clearly satisfied that he had killed Tonks, fired the killing curse at him.

"No, you don't!" shrieked Hermione, waving her wand in a circular motion, and slashing it down. Green flames shot out of her wand and wrapped itself around Rabistin's body. Rabistin screamed. Hermione held her wand higher into the air, increasing the tightness of the flame which now coil like green snake-like ropes around Rabistin's chest. Rabistin could not breathe, and Hermione was determined to let him suffer.

"This is what you get when you killed a member of the Order, you bastard!" Hermione screamed. "Feel it! How do you like it?"

Ron was gazing at Hermione, a mixed expression of admiration and fear etched on his face.

What happened next was totally unexpected.

Hermione was so intent on hurting Rabistin that she did not notice that Belatrix had sneaked up behind her. The madwoman was inches from her when Hermione looked up. Shocked, Hermione directed her wand at Belatrix instead. Rabistin let out a bloodcurdling scream and backed away as the flames died when Hermione lifted the curse.

It was too late. Belatrix had already fired the killing curse at her. The jet of green light was speeding towards Hermione. She knew that she would die this time. She had no chance of escape.

"No, you don't!" Hermione heard Ron's voice, as he flung himself in front of her protectively, pushing her backwards. "Hermione, get away!" The jet of green light hit him squarely in the chest.

Hermione will never forget the look on Ron's face as his body fall out of sight. He looked determined, his now lifeless blue eyes blazing with the flame of battle. He had died like a true hero, and Hermione was sure that his family will be proud of him.

Hermione screamed. She could not take it any longer. She had witnessed three tragic deaths in one single night. And Ron's death was the final straw.

She could not believe it. It seemed so long ago that Ron had held her hand. The kiss they shared at the fountain seemed ages ago. She could still feel Ron's arms around her, warmth coursing through her body as he stroked her hair and deepened the kiss.

"Maybe . . . just maybe . . . if we managed to make it out of this battle alive, we could have our own little family."

His voice rang in her ears as hot tears leaked out of her eyes. She made no attempt to stop the flow of tears as she directed her wand at Belatrix. She was going to kill Belatrix and avenge Ron's death. She did not care what the others would said when they know about it. Nothing mattered anymore. Ron was dead. Her Ron was gone forever, ripped from her by Voldemort's followers. Her world was shattered.

"Avada . . ."

Belatrix was about to deflect the curse when she suddenly froze in mid-air. She clutched her left forearm, threw one last contemptuous look at Hermione, and then vanished.

Confused, Hermione looked around her. Belatrix had clearly felt her Dark Mark burning. Voldemort wanted his followers to meet him. She did not know what he planned. All she knows is that she would have to warn the others. Their plan had been discovered. She could not bear to witness anymore deaths tonight. She had to get back and make sure that Harry, her only remaining hope had arrived safely at the Burrow.

If Harry was killed, she was sure that there was no chance of the light side surviving another day in a world dominated by Voldemort.

"Come on," she whispered, guiding her thestral downwards. The creature obeyed, flying lower and lower until with a thud, it landed softly on the ground. Once Hermione slid off its back, it immediately stretched out its wings and took off into the night, clearly frighten to remain there for another minute, clearly fearing that Hermione will change her mind and mount it again.

Hermione made her way slowly towards the dark mass lying a few feet away from where she landed. She could tell that it was Ron, judging by the flaming red hair.

Hermione wiped a trickle of blood from Ron's nose, and gazed down at the freckled face of the man that she had grown to love over the years.

Gazing into the deep blue eyes with full of emotion, Hermione slowly forced herself to accept that never again will those blue eyes looked at her with the fondness and gentleness that she had come to love. Never again will he talk to her; never again will she hear his jokes and never again will they ever share another kiss or create their little family.

"I love you, Ron," Hermione murmured. She leaned over him, kissing his forehead. "I will always love you."

She turned away, and was just about to stand up, when something shiny caught her eye. She squinted at it from her position beside Ron's body. Judging from its position, Hermione gathered that it had fallen out of Ron's pocket when his body fell.

She pointed her wand at it and said slowly: "Accio."

It soared into the air and landed in her palm. She looked down at it. It was a small gold ring.

A small stone was set in the middle of the ring, glittering brightly. Hermione realised that it was a red ruby. Letters were engraved on the inside of the ring.

RW to HG

REMEMBER

Emotion bubbled up in her, as she slipped the ring into her pocket. He had meant to give it to her. She wondered where he had bought it. It was so beautiful. It must have cost him a fortune.

"I will remember," Hermione said softly to Ron, squeezing his ice cold hand. "Always."

Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned away and stood up. She walked a few paces away from Ron and disapparated, concentrating on her location. She had wasted enough time already.

The interior of Kingsley's house was dark, as Hermione apparated directly into the sitting room. She spotted the portkey at once. It was about to take off, as it was beginning to glow blue.

Hastily, she reached out, and touched the brass kettle with her finger. With a jerk, she felt her feet leave the ground.

After seemed like forever, her feet slammed onto a hard surface.

She could tell that something was wrong the moment her gaze fell on the immaculate wrought iron gates in front of her. This was no safe house. They have been completely betrayed. Someone had tampered with the portkey.

A handsome manor stood before her. The hedges along the drive were neatly pruned. A white peacock strutted pass her as her heart raced. Where was she, she wondered.

Her question was answered soon enough. Someone was walking towards the gates, holding a lantern which bobbed in front of him as he walked. She could tell that it was a man, judging by the way the figure walked.

The figure reached the gates, opened it, and stared at Hermione. For a brief moment, a look of surprise crossed his face. Then, he crossed the boundary between them, flinging the gates open as he walked towards her.

"Well, well, well," the figure drawled. "What have we here?"

Hermione did not need to look up into the face to know who it was. Sure enough, as the figure closed the distance between them, the light from the lantern illuminated his features, and Hermione gazed into the face of Lucius Malfoy.

Fear teared at her. Fear that she had never felt before. She shuddered. They were all doomed.

"Petrificus totalus!" Malfoy said silently, pointing a wand at Hermione.

Hermione cursed silently. She should have defended herself, knowing what Lucius Malfoy was capable of, but she was too busy panicking that her brain seemed to slow down her thought process and her reflexes.

"Very good, very good," said Lucius Malfoy as Hermione's body crumpled and fell limply onto the ground. "Let's see what we shall do with you once you're inside."

Hermione's insides burned when she saw the satisfactory smirk on Malfoy's face.

"Interesting," Malfoy muttered, as he levitated her body along the neatly manicured garden path. "An interesting turn of events. Unexpected, I daresay."

The last thing she remembered was Lucius Malfoy levitating her through the immaculate front door of his home before she fainted and succumb to oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2 The Two Prophecies

Chapter 2: The Two Prophecies

25th July, 1980

Albus Dumbledore apparated onto Charring Cross Road, checking his pocket watch as his feet slammed into hard ground. He was slightly late for an appointment. He was due at the Leaky Cauldron ten minutes ago, according to his watch. He was expecting to interview an applicant who had applied for the position of Divination professor at Hogwarts.

Tucking his pocket watch into the depths of his purple travelling cloak, Dumbledore quickened his pace and walked into the Leaky Cauldron a few minutes later, slightly out of breath.

The small pub was quiet this evening. Only a few customers were occupying the long tables in the pub, talking silently as they sipped from tall wineglasses or as they ladle stew into their bowls from huge pots which were magically charmed to levitate above them when they had placed an order.

None of them looked up as Dumbledore entered the pub. He was grateful for this, for he did not wish to attract attention to himself. He had no desire to enter into long conversations as he was already late for his appointment.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore quietly as he approached the counter. "I am here to see a Miss Trelawney. We have an appointment."

"Ah, Albus," greeted Tom, the barman, putting down the wineglass that he had been wiping. "Yes. She is staying here. Arrived yesterday . . . she said that she'll be happy to see you in her room. She is in Room 13. Come, I'll show you the way."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, as he followed the barman to the back of the shop.

Tom opened a door, and led Dumbledore along a small and narrow corridor which led to a flight of stairs.

None of them noticed the tall, sallow-faced young man who was following them. His lanky black hair looked greasy and unwashed. It falls over his forehead, looking like a thick dirty curtain which draped around him, framing his sallow face. His black beetle eyes were surveying the two figures in front of him, full of intelligence.

He edged along the corridor behind them, making sure to keep a fair distance from the two figures, but not too far so that he can still hear their conversation.

"Up here," said Tom, panting slightly as he reached the landing. "Take a right here, and you'll see Room 13."

"Thank you, Tom. I think I'll be able to manage," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Want anything off the counter, Albus?" Tom asked, eyeing Dumbledore hopefully. "I can bring a tray up."

"No, thank you. I'll be off in a short while. Can't stay long as I've other business to attend to before I turn in for the night," said Dumbledore. "Maybe next time, Tom."

Tom nodded, looking slightly crestfallen. "I'll leave you to it then, Albus."

He turned after giving Dumbledore a tiny bow, and headed down the stairs.

The sallow-faced young man was just about to climb the stairs when Tom started to descend. Hastily, he shrank into the shadows, hiding behind a large tapestry a few feet away from the foot of the stairs.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had reached Room 13. He knocked on the door softly.

"Come in," said a faint voice from within.

Dumbledore pushed open the door and stepped into the small room, closing the door behind them.

A strange sight met his eyes, as they adjusted to the dimness in the room. The old-fashioned lamp in the room was not lit. He could not even see the faint glow of the setting sun, as the curtains in the room have been left draped over the small window at the opposite end of the room from where he was standing. His nostrils were punctuated by the smell of heavily scented perfume which lingered in the air around him.

The small bed in the room was not occupied. Instead, it was littered with empty sherry bottles, crystalballs, teacups, a large porcelain teapot and a few candles.

In an armchair near the bed, sat a woman. She wore a long red dress, which flowed around her tall and slender frame. Long shawls of various colours were draped around her, even though it was summer and the weather was quite hot. Dumbledore could hear the clanging of bangles as she stirred in her chair and turned her head to look at him.

"Good evening, my dear gentleman," she said in the same faint voice he heard a few minutes ago. "May I ask what you seek in here?"

"Good evening," Dumbledore said, taking a few steps towards her and extending his right hand. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have an appointment with a Miss Sybill Trelawney, and was told that she is staying in this room."

The woman surveyed him through her large round spectacles, which magnified her eyes, making her look more like a glittering bug.

"Ah, yes," she said after a long pause. "I am expecting you to call anytime soon. You see, the inner eye always knows."

She stretched out a slender hand and shook his extended one.

"May I offer you some sherry?" she asked, after Dumbledore had sat down in a squashy purple armchair which he had conjured himself.

"That is not necessary," said Dumbledore, as he pulled a scroll of parchment from his travelling cloak pocket and read it through quickly.

"Very well," she said, standing up from her armchair and walked towards the side table near her bed. As she passed him, Dumbledore caught a faint whiff of sherry. He wondered how many drinks she had already had before he arrived. He could tell from the moment he stepped into the room that she is not the suitable candidate for the position. He just has to find a good excuse to get rid of her and leave as soon as possible.

Dumbledore heard her bangles clanging again as she stretched out a hand and pressed a bell on the table. "I hope you don't mind. I need a drink. This has been a long day."

"No, of course not," said Dumbledore, pocketing the parchment he had been reading, a slight hint of impatience in his voice.

With a tiny "pop", a house-elf appeared in the room.

"One glass of sherry," said Sybill Trelawney, holding up one finger. The house-elf nodded and then disappeared.

"Now, Miss Trelawney," Dumbledore begin.

"Please, call me Sybill, Headmaster. It is truly an honour to finally meet you."

She crossed the room and staggered slightly as she plopped down into her armchair.

"You claimed, in your application letter," said Dumbledore, speaking from memory. "That you are the great granddaughter of the established seer, Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Quite right," said Sybill, adjusting one of her shawls.

"Tell me, Sybill," said Dumbledore, "why do you wish to teach at Hogwarts?"

"Well," said Sybill. "I want to impart my knowledge to all the students at Hogwarts. The art of Divination is simply intriguing, and I must add that, forgive me, Headmaster, only the ones who a truly gifted with the inner eye would be able to appreciate this complex yet beautiful subject, while others will find it mundane."

Dumbledore nodded. "You sound confident, Sybill. Have you ever made any predictions?"

"Of course I have, Headmaster," said Sybill, a hint of defiance in her voice.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, giving her a small smile. "May you be so kind to predict something for me?"

Sybill contemplated Dumbledore for a while over her huge magnified eyes.

"I think that you'll die a painless but quick death in seventeen years time," she said, sounding hysterical. "Beware, the lightning-struck tower! My dear Headmaster, I'm afraid . . . that you are in . . . grave danger!"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, chuckling. "That was quite an interesting prediction."

He stood up and vanished his armchair with a flick of his wrist.

"Thank you for your time, Sybill," Dumbledore said. "It's wonderful to meet you. I am afraid that I would have to reject your application. You see . . ."

He trailed off, as he noticed that something was wrong. The woman had gone rigid in her chair, her eyes had rolled into her head, her gaze was unfocused. It was as though she was in a trance-like state.

"Miss Trelawney," said Dumbledore, taking a step towards her. "Are you all right?"

There was no response.

Then, a hoarse voice, quite unlike that of the woman spoke.

"It will happen tonight, sixteen years from now!"

"I'm sorry?" asked Dumbledore quietly. Unless he was mistaken, Sybill Trelawney was making a prediction. Dumbledore had the feeling that this was not at all planned by her. She was unaware of it, judging from the state she was in.

"Tonight, in sixteen years' time," the hoarse voice continued, after drawing a deep breath. "The one with the power which matched that of the dark lord approaches, born on the nineteenth day on the first month of autumn, she will meet the dark lord for the first time, and both will be reunited and rise together, greater and more terrible than before . . . The one with the power and knowledge the dark lord seeks approaches, born to parents who disgusted and repulsed him, she will have power that the dark lord knows not, and the dark lord will mark her as his other half . . . But when the darkest hour approaches, only she has the power to heal and restore him, and should she failed to do so, destruction ensues, for one will die at the hands of the other, and one cannot survive without the other . . . the one with the power to cure the dark lord approaches on the nineteenth day of the first month of fall . . ."

She jerked in her chair, and Dumbledore caught her before she falls out of it.

She coughed, took a shuddering breath, and her gaze became focused once more.

"Pardon me, Headmaster," she said in her faint voice. "I must have dozed off. You were saying?"

Hastily regaining his composure, Dumbledore said, "No worries, my dear lady. I understand. I was just complimenting you on your impressive prediction. I would be happy to offer you the position of Divination professor at Hogwarts. I'm sure Hogwarts will benefit greatly from your service."

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, holding up a hand. Dumbledore bowed and kissed her hand. The prophecy still rang in his thoughts clearly.

It is at this moment that the sallow-faced young man pressed his ear against the keyhole, slightly panting as he do so. He had dashed up the stairs hurriedly, hoping to spy on the old Headmaster. He was hoping that he will be able to bring some satisfactory news to his master about what Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix was planning. If he was lucky enough, he would even be able to find out the old fool's entire plan.

But he was also doubtful. This was a job interview. There could not be anything exciting about it, he gathered. Yet, it was worth a try.

His perseverance was rewarded, as he listened in intently on the conversation, excitement bubbling up in him.

"I'll be expecting you . . ."

Dumbledore was almost at the door when he said this. He trailed off and chanced a glance over his shoulder.

The woman had gone rigid in her chair again. Hastily turning around, Dumbledore crossed the room in three long strides and was beside her in a matter of seconds. His blue eyes were twinkling madly with excitement behind his half-moon spectacles. He was sure that she was going to make another prophecy.

In the same hoarse voice, Sybill Trelawney unknowingly made her second prophecy.

"The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the dark lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the dark lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . . in the darkest hour, only the dark lord's other half can save them all . . ."

Her head dropped onto her chest. She coughed deeply, sighed and then looked up.

"Sorry about this, Headmaster," she said faintly. "I have not eaten much today. Feeling rather dizzy . . . "

"No worries," said Dumbledore. "I'll see you soon, professor." He tried to sound cheerful, but the gears in his brain were turning furiously. He must figure out the prophecies as soon as possible. Two innocent lives are in great danger. He was more worried about the first prophecy than the second one. If it was indeed true, than the wizarding world will be in great danger. He could foresee the dark times ahead.

"Thank you, Headmaster. I appreciate your time," said Sybill Trelawney. "Now, I wonder whether that elf has forgotten about my sherry . . ."

Before she managed to finish her sentence, there was a loud bang, and the door to the room flew open.

Tom marched into the room, holding a tray which contained a glass of sherry in one hand and dragging a young, sallow-faced young man by the collar.

"I didn't do anything! I told you that I got lost! Let go of me!" the young man was struggling frantically, desperate to free himself from Tom's grip.

"Do you think I believe this nonsense? You are not even a guest here, you liar!" Tom shouted as he roughly shoves the young man forward.

"Albus, he was listening at the keyhole!" Tom said, sounding scandalised. "What a nasty thing to do! So intent was he pressing his ear against the keyhole that he failed to see me approaching."

Tom released the young man when he reached the spot where Dumbledore was standing, and then passed the tray bearing the sherry to Sybill.

"Thank you," said Sybill, snatching up the glass quickly and taking a huge swig from it. She looked cross.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, anger blazing in her eyes. "Are you trying to sabotage my job? The Headmaster has already hired me, I'm sorry to tell you. Happy?"

"Severus," said Dumbledore softly. "What a surprise."

Dumbledore gazed at the young man. Grief crossed his features for a second. Something flickered in his twinkling blue eyes for a moment, but then it was gone, as quickly as it had been there moments ago.

The young man looked terrified. He averted his gaze from Dumbledore and addressed Sybill.

"I assure you, my dear lady, that I have no such intention. I was merely passing your door, as I am lost."

"I'm sure that there has been a misunderstanding here, Tom," said Dumbledore softly after a few moments of silence, in which the young man shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously. "I think you should not blame a curious young man like Severus. Naturally, curiosity gets the better of us sometimes. I am sure he meant no harm. Besides, nothing he heard is of importance. This is a job interview, and nothing more than that."

"But, albus . . ." Tom started to protest.

"Enough,: said Dumbledore, waving his hand dismissively. "I think an apology will settle it."

Tom did not dare to argue, judging by the look Dumbledore gave him which clearly indicated that the discussion or dispute or whatever one would called this, was over.

Reluctantly, the young man said in a sneer, "Sorry for listening in. I shouldn't have done it."

"There," said Dumbledore. "It is as simple as that. I must take my leave. I have other business to attend to. I'll see you on the first of September, Professor Trelawney."

And with that, he turned away and left the room.

Wordlessly, Tom followed him out of the room, the young man trailing behind them.

"Good night, Tom, Severus," said Dumbledore, as he stepped out into the warm summer night.

"Good night, Albus," said Tom. The young man remained silent.

"A word of advice, Severus," said Dumbledore when Tom had disappeared into the pub. "It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. I hope you will consider my advice."

With that, Dumbledore turned on the spot and disapparated.

Standing alone in the now darkened street, Severus Snape looked around him, and then disapparated.

He was very excited. Who cares what that old fool said? He would at last be recognised for what he was worth. He was sure that his master, the dark lord, would be pleased to hear what he was going to tell him.

For once, he will be recognised and perhaps he will also be promoted into the dark lord's inner circle if he was lucky.

Smirking, he walked straight through the huge wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor, sprinted up the garden path and approached the front door.


	3. Chapter 3 When Light Meets Dark

Author's note:

Thank you so much to those who had added my story to their favourite list and to those who followed my story. I was not expecting so many favourites and followers two chapters into the story!

Nevertheless, I felt a bit disappointed, as I only got one review. I really need to know where this story stands, so that I will be able to decide whether to continue it or not. I hope that I am not asking too much from those of you who read my story by asking you to kindly leave a review for me after reading.

I would also like to apologise for the occasional grammatical errors in my story. I noticed that I spelled some names of characters wrongly, as I have lost touch with some minor characters. It has been a while since I last read the series thoroughly. I will try my best not to repeat my mistakes. I know that it can be quite irritating to those who liked to write a story with perfect sentence structure, spelling and grammar. I will try to get a beta soon. If anyone is interested to beta my story, you are always welcomed to PM me. I will be happy to consider your request.

On another note, this would be the last chapter of the story which I have written so far. Updates would be slower from now on, as I am still figuring out the plot and structure of the story. Please do leave me a review! I really need motivation and inspiration to continue with this story! Thank you all in advance!

Eagerly awaiting your wonderful reviews, I remain yours truly,

Amanda Samsam

Cheers.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 3: When Light Meets Dark

Lucius Malfoy levitated the body of the unconscious girl through the hallway of his impressive manor, his brows furrowed in deep thought. This turn of events was totally unexpected.

A week ago, Severus Snape, a trusted and reliable member of the dark lord's inner circle had come to bring news that the Potter boy will be moved from his relatives' house tonight. The dark lord had been excited on the prospect of sabotaging the Order of the Phoenix's attempt and was determined to kill the boy before he got to safety.

The days following Snape's departure have been tense. The dark lord was planning his moves carefully, to ensure that there was no flaw in his plan. He became more restless, agitated and irritable as the days progressed, cursing every Death Eater who annoyed him or who make stupid comments that were useless in his opinion.

Lucius Malfoy was no exception. He was not spared from the dark lord's torment. Come to think of it, he realised that the dark lord had more than once pick him as one of his hose to let out his frustration. He knew exactly why the dark lord was doing this.

The dark lord had tried to make life miserable for his whole family ever since his return from Azkaban. He knew that the dark lord wanted to punish him for the mistake he made two years ago; the fatal mistake which not only lead to his capture by the Ministry of Magic, but also resulted in the dark lord's failure to hear the prophecy.

To make matters worse, his own son, Draco, had failed to complete the task that was assigned to him by the dark lord. Lucius heard from the other Death Eaters that Draco had no courage to carry out the deed in the end and was about to switch sides at the last moment. Lucius was outraged. His son had not only shamed the Malfoy family by his conduct. He had made a mistake so grave and huge that there was no chance that the dark lord would ever forgive the whole Malfoy family. Never again will he put his trust in them, and never again will there be a hope that the Malfoy family will be able to gain its well-deserved and respected place in the dark lord's ring of followers.

He had reached the door to the drawing room without knowing it. He glanced at the elegant oak door in front of him, contemplating his next moves. He could tell that none of the Death Eaters who followed the dark lord on his mission tonight has returned, judging by the pin drop silence, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway which he had already past and the slow and soothing trickle of the fountain in the garden. He enjoyed the silence. It helped him to think and clear his thoughts. He hoped that the dark lord would not return soon. He needed some peace and a break from all the recent events. They were driving him crazy.

His grip tightened on the wand in his right hand. The cold mahogany wood felt unfamiliar to his touch. The wand seemed quite reluctant to perform his bidding. It clearly did not recognise his magic.

Lucius Malfoy could not blame it. This was not his wand after all. He had borrowed it from his wife, Narcissa when he heard the familiar crack, indicating that someone had apparated outside his house. The wards he placed around his house had buzzed with magic, signalling the sign of an intruder. Lucius Malfoy knew immediately that he and his family were in some form of danger. All the Death Eaters have magically bound their magic and signature to the wards in the manor. The wards will only recognise their touch, and nothing more than that. Clearly, the signature of the approaching person was not recognised, as the wards continued to buzz even as he made his way out of the front door.

He exhaled and pushed open the drawing room door. His wand had been borrowed by the dark lord in the pursuit of the Potter boy. He hoped that the dark lord will return it to him soon. He could not stand not having his wand with him. These were desperate and dark times, after all.

However, he considered himself lucky. Not having a wand provided an excellent excuse for him to not join the operation tonight. Secretly, he had hoped that he and his family will not be involved. He feared for his own life, and he feared also for Narcissa and Draco's safety. Who knows what would their punishment be if he made some miscalculated moves whilst in the operation tonight? He dare not think of it.

Sighing, he levitated the body into the drawing room and placed it on a rug near the fireplace.

"What happened?" Narcissa, who was standing near the window asked, hurrying to his side. Her face was white with fear, her eyes anxiously darting around the room. "Who is it, Lucius?"

"See for yourself," said Lucius Malfoy, pointing to the figure on the rug. Narcissa's gaze fell on the girl, and she let out a tiny gasp.

"What is this, Lucius? How could she be here? Isn't she one of Potter's friends? I think I saw her before, but I couldn't remember where," she said, her voice panicky. "Do you think that we are discovered?"

"No," said Lucius after a long pause. "I think there must be some flaw in the plan on their side. I thought I saw a portkey on the ground beside her. Stay here. I'll go and retrieve it."

"No, it couldn't be," said Narcissa, fear evident in her tone. "This only meant one thing, Lucius. The plan failed."

Pretending not to hear her, Lucius open the drawing door and walked out of the drawing room. He wanted to put this possibility off from his mind as long as possible. Surely, they could not be a mistake. There could not be anything wrong. The plan was well thought out, after all.

And yet, how can the appearance of the girl are explained?

Lucius shuddered inwardly. He hoped that he would get to see his precious elm and dragon heartstrings wand again. He missed holding the slim and smooth piece of wood, which bind so well with his magic ever since it had chosen him back in his boyhood. There had been something wrong with the dark lord's wand when he last turned it on the Potter boy. That is why the dark lord had wanted to borrow a wand from one of his Death Eaters.

Lucius just hoped that his wand will not be destroyed in the operation tonight. After all, this is Harry Potter they are talking about. The boy had more than once thwarted the dark lord, evading capture and death numerous times. Who knows what extraordinary powers that boy can wheel? One should not be so confident and so sure of things when Harry Potter is involved. He had learned this lesson long ago, ever since that stupid arrogant boy freed his house-elf four years ago.

He re-joined Narcissa in the drawing room a few minutes later, clutching a brass kettle in his hand.

"This is it," he said, examining the kettle by the light of the blazing fireplace.

Narcissa did not dare interrupt her husband. Fear clawed at her, fear she had never felt before for a very long time. She did not dare think of the consequences if the operation failed tonight. The dark lord was becoming more dangerous as the days passed. She hoped that he would be able to resolve his frustration by killing the boy once and for all. All of them had suffered enough. Lucius had been bullied by the dark lord, punished, tortured and mocked ever since his return from Azkaban. She could not bear to watch her beloved husband suffer anymore at the dark lord's hands.

Lucius' voice jolted her out of her thoughts.

"I think someone must have tampered with the portkey," said Lucius slowly, putting the kettle down on one of the small tables near the fireplace. "This portkey must have been intended for Potter. The girl took it by chance, and it brought her here."

Narcissa looked straight into her husband's grey eyes.

"I thought that the portkey was just a back-up plan," said Narcissa, eyeing the kettle with disdain, finally averting her gaze from her husband's face. "This only meant one thing, Lucius. The plan had gone wrong somewhere."

"I feared so," said Lucius, sounding worried. "I don't know what the dark lord would think when he found out that instead of Potter, he was presented with a stupid and filthy little mudblood."

"How do you know . . ." Narcissa trailed off.

Lucius sniggered. "Come of it, Narcissa darling. It is evident from her look that she is neither a pureblood nor a half-blood or a blood traitor. Do you doubt that she is a mudblood?"

"Of course not," said Narcissa quickly, fearing that she will offend her husband. "All the same, we are still not sure . . . Let's ask Draco. Perhaps he recognised her."

"There is no need for that. I know her. She is one of Potter's friends. I saw her back in the Department of Mysteries two years ago," said Lucius darkly.

"Oh," said Narcissa, covering her face with her hands.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them. Then, Narcissa spoke.

"Luckily Rabastan managed to put an Imperius curse on that filthy scum, Mundungus Fletcher," said Narcissa. "At least that idiot man bewitched the portkey to bring Potter here. But all the same, this is totally unexpected."

"We should thank Severus for thinking about the back-up plan," said Lucius. "At least there is some consolation for the dark lord. Getting a mudblood instead of Potter. I think she'll be quite useful, you know. She is one of Potter's friends after all. Who knows what information she held that might be valuable to our side?"

"Do you think we should . . ." Narcissa trailed off, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"No," said Lucius. "I think the dark lord should do it himself. He may want to kill her after torturing information out of her, to let out his frustration. He wouldn't look twice at a filthy little mudblood before he finishes her off."

Just then, Draco walked into the room, his wand held high in front of him.

"What happened, father? I thought I heard someone apparating . . ."

He trailed off when his gaze landed upon the unconscious girl.

"How . . ." he started.

"Do you recognise her, Draco?" asked Narcissa. "Your father said . . ."

"Yes. It is Potter's mudblood, Hermione Granger. The one we met back in Madam Malkin's shop last year, mother. Remember?"

Draco looked shocked.

"Oh," said Narcissa after furrowing her brows for a moment. "Yes, yes. Now I remember. No wonder she looked familiar."

"What should we do with her?" Lucius asked. "Maybe we should prepare her for the torture session with the dark lord later?"

"Nothing," Narcissa said after a few moments of silence. "We'll let the dark lord deal with her. I think Bella will like to have a go too."

"They'll kill her. She's a mudblood," Draco said, sounding scared. "Can't we just . . ."

"Just what?" Lucius snapped, his temper rising. "This is out of our hands, Draco! Don't you dare interfere in this. Our family has suffered enough shame already. Don't try anything funny. I don't dare to think about the consequences when he knows about this! You have done enough damage already! Honestly, what were you thinking? Switching sides? Wonder what that old codger put into your head before he died. I am very disappointed in you, Draco. If Severus Snape hadn't arrived in time to finish him off, I don't dare to think what you would do."

"If we just let her go, or hide her somewhere, he won't know," Draco said, giving his mother a pleading look and pretending not to hear what his father had just said.

"No," said Lucius with a tone of finality. "She will be useful, at least for now. We'll let the dark lord decide what to do with her once she has given us all we need to know about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix."

"Your father is right, son," said Narcissa. "Listen to him. I am afraid that this is out of our hands. And she is just a mudblood. Her death won't mean anything, except a small loss to the wizarding world. Please, Draco. I beg you not to try anything drastic. You'll land yourself and your father in hot soup. I . . . I can't bear to see him torturing the both of you."

Narcissa clutched her blond hair, her hands trembling. Tears leaked out of her eyes and flowed down her pale white face.

"Don't let your mother worry, Draco," said Lucius, his tone softening. "I know this is very hard for all of us, but we have no choice. We had chosen to serve him, and there is no turning back. We must not look back, but move forward. Whatever will be, will be."

"All right, all right," sighed Draco with a dejected look. "I won't try anything. Don't cry, mother."

Narcissa crossed the room and close the distance between them. She enveloped her son in a tight hug. Draco leaned into her, brushing away her tears with his pale hand.

A high-pitched scream issued from the ceiling.

"Wormtail!" Lucius bellowed. "For God's sake, can you keep that stupid old man quiet?"

"I am trying!" they heard a frightened but frustrated squeak up ahead.

"Try harder then!" Lucius bellowed.

The screaming ceased after a few minutes.

"Finally, some real peace," sighed Lucius, leaning back into an armchair near the fireplace after returning the wand to Narcissa.

No sooner than he had said this, they heard a dozen cracks outside the house. Footsteps were walking up the garden path.

Lucius felt a strong surge of magic in the air, crackling madly around the manor. This could only mean one thing. The plan really had failed. He could literally feel the dark lord's anger, crackling madly around him as his magic intertwined with the wards of the house. He shuddered.

Draco released his mother, threw one fearful look at the unconscious form on the rug and turned to face the drawing room door. Narcissa was at Lucius' side in a matter of seconds, clutching his hand tightly.

Lucius glanced sideways at his wife and then gazed at his son. One look at their scared and white faces was enough to tell him that they had felt it too.

Hopelessly, they looked at each other, clearly fearing what will come next.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Severus Snape dismounted from his broomstick, brushing off dust from his robes.

He hoped that his temporary distraction will work. He had tailed Remus Lupin on purpose and fired the sectumsempra hex at one of the fake Potters before flying off in a different tangent. He made sure that Lupin managed to get a good look at him before he spun his broom around, plastering on a triumph smirk as he passed Bellatrix Lestrange and Crabbe SR. Both of them raise their hands in salute, giving him the thumbs-up before they dashed off into the night, eagerly joining the chase for the boy who lived.

He had flown eastwards, towards a deserted forest, which is where he was standing now. The forest was dark and quiet. The leaves of tall trees rustled in the wind; the night was punctuated by the low screeching of crickets. Occasionally, he could hear the sound of small hooves pawing the ground, or small footsteps scurrying off into the tall hedges ahead of him.

This was total madness. He should not have agreed to do this. His cover would be blown if the dark lord got wind of what he was up to tonight.

However, there was no turning back now. He had gone far enough.

He realised that from the moment he had pledged to protect Lily's son in order to amend what he had done to her and also to avenge her death, he would have to take whatever measures that are necessary to ensure that the boy survived.

Although he hated the boy, he did not wish him to die. He secretly felt pity for the boy, although he tried to hide it from everyone else by putting on a nasty façade by mocking the boy throughout his years at Hogwarts.

He kept reminding himself that he was not doing this for the boy, but for Lily, his one and only true love. For Lily, he will ensure that her son survived. He would not let Lily down again, not after all these years.

Dumbledore had told him that the boy would have to die eventually. When he heard that, he was outraged. How could Dumbledore do this? What was he thinking? It was as though Dumbledore was raising the boy up. Preparing him for battle and finally sending him to meet his end when the time was right. Snape could not believe this. He stormed out of the office and never spoke to Dumbledore again for almost a month.

However, he was in for another surprise. It was not until one week before Dumbledore met his tragic death [which he was partly responsible for], that he told Snape that there was a way out of this. The boy may not have to die.

Snape felt a flicker of hope rising up in him. He told Dumbledore that he would ensure that the boy survived; he will carry out all of Dumbledore's instructions accordingly to ensure this.

However, he was shocked when he heard what Dumbledore had instructed him to do. Until today, Dumbledore still refused to tell him the reason for this sudden move.

He only carried out what Dumbledore had asked of him reluctantly. He was putting another innocent life into danger. But he realised that he had no choice in this matter. He must choose between protecting the boy by carrying out the task assigned to him or keeping his conscience by not obeying Dumbledore's order. He knew that he would choose the former; he would do anything to avenge Lily's death, and if the boy managed to survive and finish off the dark lord, it would be the better as he would be able to kill two birds with one stone. He would be able to make amends to Lily and also avenge her death at the same time.

Dumbledore probably knew what he was doing. As much as Snape hated the old man, he still reserved a bit of respect for him. After all, Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all times, and Snape knew better than to question Dumbledore's judgments. He was sure that Dumbledore had the boy's best interests at heart, as Dumbledore cared for the boy.

It was with this mindset that Snape ignored his conscience and carried out was asked of him. He had absolutely no regrets. He was not looking back. What was done could not be changed. He must move forward.

Looking around for one last time to make sure that he was alone, he closed his eyes, concentrated on his destination and disapparated.

He apparated directly in front of the gates of Hogwarts castle. Silently, he muttered spells under his breath, tapping his wand in various spots on the gate as he does so. There was a small click after a while. Smiling satisfactorily, he pushed open the gate and began to walk up to the castle.

Reaching the large oak front door, he waved his wand in an intricate pattern, undoing all the enchantments which prevented him from apparating in and out of the castle. He knew that he only had half an hour to do what he was told to do. He managed to find a way to contain the ancient magic of the castle, placed there since centuries ago, in order to enable him to leave the protective enchantments. However, this would only work for a short period of time, and he must act fast.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the place he wished to apparate to, and turned on the spot.

He opened his eyes, and smiled satisfactorily as his gaze swept across the circular room, which was so familiar to him. The room looked the same, except for an empty and vacated golden stand near the window, where a phoenix once perched, proud and elegant with its magnificent golden wings spread out beside it.

Sparing the small contraptions in the room which emitted low hummings and mechanical clickings a small glance, he moved further into the room, stopping directly in front of the portrait of the late Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Albus Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes surveyed him through the lenses of his half-moon spectacles.

"Well, Severus?" he asked, leaning out of his portrait to peer more closely at him.

"I have done it," said Snape. "I managed to convince the dark lord to think of a back-up plan, and as you probably would have known, he agreed to it without any question. I guessed he was desperate enough to get the boy that he simply couldn't care about anything else. He just wants to get rid of the boy as soon as possible."

"Good, very good," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly. He continued to look at Snape expectantly.

Taking this as a signal for him to continue, Snape said, "I talked Rabastan Lestrange into following Mundungus Fletcher. I convinced Rabastan to put an imperius curse on that scoundrel, so that he will be able to bewitch one of the portkeys. I managed to convey to Rabastan the likelihood that Potter will be travelling with one of the more experienced member of the Order, and just as I have intended, Lestrange made his pick. He managed to narrow it down to Mad-eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Dumbledore nodded with approval.

"I apparated to the Burrow and watched the Order members leave the house. I stood behind a hedge. I was under a strong dissolutionment charm, so no one noticed me. I tailed them to Little Winging and found out the pairs that will be travelling together. I convinced Rabastan that I knew from an unknown source that Potter will travel with Shacklebolt. Rabastan imperiused Mundungus Fletcher and ordered him to bewitch the portkey at Shacklebolt's house. I sent word to Shacklebolt through a Muggle messenger, informing him that the Muggle Prime Minister is expecting him to discuss some urgent business. Shacklebolt left the house, and Mundungus Fletcher managed to slip in with Rabastan's help and bewitched the portkey. I have arranged for the Muggle Prime Minister to discuss some business with Shacklebolt, in case he got suspicious and thought that the message brought by the messenger is a form of diversion or trap."

"You have done well, Severus," said Dumbledore.

Snape surveyed Dumbledore with a thoughtful expression on his face. He was silent for a few moments. Finally deciding that he could no longer hold his thoughts, he burst out, "Why?"

Dumbledore was quiet. A sad expression crossed his features.

"Why?" asked Snape again when he failed to get an answer from Dumbledore. "Why this move? I know that I should not question what you asked me to do, but I simply cannot understand this. I am supposed to protect the boy, to protect Lily's son from danger. You told me that he will be sent to his death in the end. I can still accept that, even though it pained me to do so."

"Yes, I understand how you feel, Severus," said Dumbledore, sympathy evident in his tone. "I would have felt the same if I am in your shoes. What I am asking you to do may perhaps save the boy in the end. Lily . . ."

"Don't you dare mention her name in front of me! Don't you use her to get to me!" Snape screamed, his temper rising. "I just don't understand. How did that mud . . . I mean, that stupid girl come into the picture? This is Harry Potter we are trying to protect, not Hermione Granger. What's she got to do with this? Do enlighten me."

"Everything," said Dumbledore simply. "Miss Granger is the key to everything. I am afraid that what must be done, must be done. I have put this off long enough. It is time for Miss Granger to fulfil what is destined for her. Fate requires Miss Granger and Lord Voldemort to cross paths. You are merely speeding up the process for fate by sending her directly to Lord Voldemort."

"Care to elaborate?" asked Snape, calming down slightly. "In case you have forgotten, Headmaster, she is just a mudblood. Do you think that she will live for another second when she is placed in close proximity with the dark lord?"

"I forbid you to use this kind of language in here," said Dumbledore, his voice stern. "Have you forgotten the cost you had to pay when you last used that word?"

"Don't you dare!" hissed Snape. "I am merely pointing out the obvious. Besides, I have a conscience. I am not sending another innocent life to be slaughtered mercilessly. I couldn't bear to watch it."

"I am afraid that this is out of our hands, Severus," said Dumbledore. "I deeply regretted this move, but it had to be done, and it is better now than never. They will both cross paths eventually. This is what we call the cruel irony of fate. I daresay that the consequences will be worse if she seek him out herself in the near future."

"Why would she want to do that? Hermione Granger is the brightest witch for her age," said Snape, staring at Dumbledore with a bemused expression on his face. "She knew better than to do something as stupid as seeking out the dark lord."

Dumbledore did not answer. Snape knew that he would never get a satisfactory answer from Dumbledore, and decided not to press it further.

"Will the boy live if I do as you asked me to do?" asked Snape quietly after a few minutes in which both Dumbledore and himself remained silent, gazing at each other sadly. "Make no mistake, Dumbledore. I am only doing this for Lily, and nothing more than that. I do not pity the boy."

"Maybe," said Dumbledore. "Alas, the question of whether Harry will live can only be answered by one person."

"And who is that?" asked Snape.

"Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "Miss Granger would have to make an important choice eventually."

Snape stared at Dumbledore. Then, something clicked in his mind. How could he not realise it before? He cursed himself for his own stupidity.

"The prophecy," he said softly, staring straight into the twinkling blue eyes of Dumbledore. "I see what you mean. Yes, I still remembered. In the darkest hour, only the dark lord's other half can save them all . . . But how do you know she is the one?"

"So, you have figured it out yourself," said Dumbledore slowly. "Yes, you are right. Miss Granger is the dark lord's other half. How I know about it is not important. That is another story, reserved for another time, and it is not my story to tell."

Snape laughed bitterly.

"Lord Voldemort will realised eventually that the one mentioned in the prophecy is Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "He will draw his own conclusions after getting to know her."

An undecided look crossed Snape's face. He hesitated before he spoke in an almost inaudible whisper, "He will not know."

A look of surprise crossed Dumbledore's face.

"No?" said Dumbledore questioningly, eyeing Snape with interest.

"No," Snape said. "I did not tell him the whole prophecy. I don't know why I kept the last bit from him. Perhaps I thought that it is of no significance to him at that time."

Dumbledore contemplated Snape for a while. He remained unmoving from his portrait.

"Ah, this is interesting, Severus. Very interesting indeed," Dumbledore said after a short pause.

"Should I convey this information to him, then?" Snape asked.

"No, I don't think that would be necessary. Let Lord Voldemort discover it himself," said Dumbledore.

"Is the girl aware of this?" Snape asked.

"No," said Dumbledore. "I didn't tell Harry about the whole prophecy. I didn't want Miss Granger to know about it until it is time."

"I see," said Snape, looking away.

Snape felt a burning sensation on his left forearm. He rolled up the sleeve of his robe and peered at the dark mark etched into his skin. It had turned black.

"I have to go," Snape said. "I have placed a distraction to cover my absence from the operation tonight. I hope no one has realised it."

Dumbledore nodded, and closed his eyes. This was a gesture indicating that their conversation was over.

"Good evening, Severus," said Dumbledore.

Nodding curtly, Snape turned away.

He felt a sudden vibration under his feet.

"The castle is sealing itself up again," said Snape. "I must go. I will not be able to apparate out of here in five minutes time."

"I wish you all the best, Severus," said Dumbledore.

Snape did not answer, but gritted his teeth.

"And Severus?" Dumbledore said.

Snape turned around.

"Yes?" he asked questioningly. Dumbledore's eyes were still closed.

"When you are selected as Headmaster at the school when the Ministry falls," Dumbledore said slowly, "I want you to protect Sybill Trelawney as best as you can. Do not let her out of your sight. Do not let her out of the castle. And most importantly, Lord Voldemort should not know about her. She will be in grave danger if he does. I think I do not need to remind you about the consequences if she is discovered. I suggest you administer a strong dose of the Draught of Living Dead to her, enough to keep her asleep until this war comes to an end."

"Very well," said Snape.

Without another glance at Dumbledore, he turned on the spot and apparated out of Hogwarts, just as the ancient enchantments of the castle spring to life again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She was flying. Her body felt relaxed as she glided over clouds. The wind blew into her face, slightly ruffling her hair which had been tied and pleated neatly. She was gliding gracefully, both hands spread wide at her sides. She channelled her magic from her magical core and allowed it to course through her body until she could feel it travel to her fingertips. She took a deep breath, and pushed forwards, holding her palms straight ahead, both hands still spread out at her sides. Her magic propelled her body, bringing it forward. She closed her eyes, enjoying every moment of the flight. This was heaven.

This was fun. How come she hated flying, she could really do well in it, she gathered. She was no longer afraid of heights. She was just being stupid and paranoid all these years.

She opened her eyes and looked downwards. She was so high up that the buildings below her looked like tiny dots on a map, moving past her in a blur of colour and lights as she passed. She had not felt so carefree for a long time. She longed for this freedom.

She also felt a sense of control. It was as though she was on top of the world, gazing down at everyone and everything else.

"Hermione . . ."

Someone spoke her name. It sent chills down her spine, but she liked the sound her name when it rolled out of his tongue. She knew he was there without having to turn around.

He was at her side in a few seconds. He was flying just like her. His cold fingers brushed her cheek as he whispered, "Join me, and together, we can achieve great things."

She leaned sideways, leaning into his touch. He caressed her cheek with one hand whilst tracing small circles on her neckline using the tip of his wand, which he held in his other hand. He looked so relaxed. His magic crackled around him, making him look powerful. He flew without having to spread his hands at his side; his magic was so powerful that anything was possible.

"Ron . . ." she whispered.

"But Ron didn't know how to fly. This is not right," a small part of her thought.

"Good girl . . ." he trailed off softly, tilting her chin upwards.

"Ron?" she asked. His voice was different, more masculine than she had remembered. She found that she liked it. He must have matured a bit more since she last saw him.

Slowly, she gazed into his eyes. They were precisely the shade of blue that she had come to like and love.

But the eyes which bore into hers were not blue. They were red, gleaming dangerously.

"No," she whispered. "This must be a joke, right? Ron . . ."

She gazed intently at the hand which was still stroking her face. There were long, white and pale. She stared at his face, expecting to see the long nose and freckles that she had seen for a million times.

A pale face stared back at her.

She was numb with shock. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. He leered at her, his red eyes still boring into her hazel orbs. She backed away, but he gripped her wrist tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. Pain shot through her wrist as he pulled her towards him.

This was not Ron. He would not hurt her like this. It was Lord Voldemort.

"Come with me. We can be great together,"

"Never . . ." she mumbled.

She concentrated hard, channelling her magic from her magical core to her fingertips. With immense difficulty, she yanked her wrist away from his grip, releasing her magic at the same time.

He looked taken aback as her magic sped towards him, knocking him back a few feet from her. She tried to back away, but her body suddenly gave a violent jerk.

Before she knew it, she was falling. She was scared. She never liked heights. The flight was not so enjoyable after all. She tried to stop herself from tumbling further down the endless descent, but she was no longer in control.

"Help . . . " she said desperately. "Please . . ."

"You must learn to fly. Never fear heights," a voice said above her. "It is only by flying that you will feel that you are in control. Spread out your hands and rise again."

"I can't. I know I can't do it," she whimpered. "Please . . . I need help . . ."

"No," said the voice. It was mocking her.

"Please . . . I need help . . ."

"You must learn it the hard way then . . ."

"No . . . Please . . . ."

"You'll fall, unless you fly."

Her body gave another violent jerk, and she was falling further. Down, down and down she went. She closed her eyes, waiting for the fall to come.

It never came. She was tumbling into an unknown abyss.

"Hermione . . ."

She blinked. She knew that voice.

It was Ron's voice; the real Ron.

"Hermione . . . Hermione, where are you?"

"Ron . . . Ron . . . I am here . . . Help . . ." she said weakly.

"I can hear you, but I can't see you," he said. "Where are you, Hermione?"

She could feel him behind her.

"Here, I am just here, in front of you . . . Can't you see me, love?" she asked, sounding relieved. She arched her body towards him. She was waiting to feel his strong arms embrace her, but it never came.

"Ron, I am falling . . ." she said, as her body jerked again and she tumbled further into the unknown abyss.

"I can't see you, love," she heard his voice, sounding from faraway. "Come into the light. You're too dark. I can't reach you."

"Dark . . . No, no, I can still see you . . . Ron . . ."

"No, love," she heard his voice, sounding even further this time. "Come back to me, Hermione. I can't reach you. Not any longer. Come back into the light. Don't stay in the dark, it'll destroy you."

"Ron . . ."

"I love you, Hermione. Please come back. Come back."

Fog blinded her vision. This was the end, she gathered. She will never see him again.

"Ron . . ." she moaned weakly, as blackness engulfed her vision. She closed her eyes, waiting for her body to hit the bottom of the dark and endless pit that she was falling into.

"Hermione . . . come back, please . . . we need you, more than ever . . ." said a different voice, which she also recognised.

"Harry?" she whispered. "Harry! Help me! I will. Of course I will come back. I am your friend."

"No, Hermione. No, it is not too late. Let go. Join us."

"I can't, Harry. I am falling."

"Not if you turn back. Don't let the darkness swallow you. It'll destroy your soul. I see lightness still in you."

"No, I can't. I don't think I have the strength to do so . . ."

"Come back into the light," Harry said. It sounded almost like a plea.

"I don't know how, Harry."

"Just turn back," Harry's voice said again, sounding distant.

"Where? Help me," said Hermione. "I can't see anything."

"Don't let the darkness corrupt your soul, Hermione. Listen to me. There is still time."

Harry did not understand. She had no control over her body. It was falling on its own accord.

"I don't think I can turn back, Harry. It is too late for that. I am falling," she said, fear evident in her voice.

There was a long pause, in which her body continued to tumble further down.

Then, Harry's voice spoke. It sounded broken and sad.

"Then, you will fall," said Harry's voice. It sounded so far away. "Goodbye, Hermione."

"Harry, no," she moaned. "Don't leave me!"

There was no answer.

She continued to fall. Down and down and down she tumbled.

After seemed like forever, she landed on a surface. Surprisingly, it was neither too hard nor too soft.

Her body gave a final jerk, and she came to her senses.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione wished that she could get out of this dream. She did not know how she was drawn into it. It looked so real. The last she remembered, she could not even fly. She was afraid of heights.

And what is it about Voldemort touching her and speaking her name? He had asked her to join him, which she had refused.

Then, Harry and Ron came into the dream, but they had not saved her from falling. They said that they could not see her because she was too dark. She did not like this at all. What could all of this mean, she wondered.

Breathing slowly to calm her nerves, she tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were just too heavy.

She moved her fingers, feeling the surface which she was lying on. Her fingers traced along a soft surface. She realised that she was lying on an exquisite rug with intricate embroideries. She was lying near a blazing fireplace, the logs on the fire crackling merrily, judging by the warmth she felt and the smell of burning wood.

Memories began to come back to her as she managed to calm herself down. She realised that she was no longer in the horrible dream. She had been called back to reality.

Chills ran down her spine as flashes of the night's happenings came rushing back to her.

The Order had been betrayed. Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters knew that they were moving Harry tonight. She wondered who had betrayed them. She would make sure that person pay dearly for this crime.

The betrayal had cost the Order four innocent lives. Four brave souls have sacrificed in order to bring Harry to safety. Moody and Kingsley were killed. Then, Tonks was killed too, and finally, Ron had also fallen.

She had apparated to Kingsley's house, and touched the portkey. It had probably been tampered with, as it did not bring her to the Burrow, but to a handsome manor house. The last thing she remembered was gazing into the pale face of Lucius Malfoy outside the gate of his manor house.

But how did the traitor know which portkey to bewitch, she wondered. Moody had taken the liberty to announce the pairs that will be travelling together at the last minute, to avoid betrayal. This was a precaution, according to him. Even if the traitor was there, there was simply not enough time for him or her to bewitch the portkey. Moody had make sure that no one was out of his sight.

"Unless," Hermione thought, the gears in her mind spinning rapidly. "Someone already knew from the start which portkey to bewitch. That someone must have presumed that Harry would either be travelling with one of the more experienced aurors, and that someone made his or her pick: Kingsley. That someone must have informed the Death Eaters about it. Voldemort must have set up a back-up plan to ensure that he was able to get Harry, should the first attempt failed. One of the Death Eaters must have apparated into Kingsley's house and bewitched the portkey. But how? Surely Kingsley would have notice? But wait . . . oh, of course. The appointment with the Muggle Prime Minister! That must be a diversion to keep Kingsley away while the dirty work was done. However, the traitor did not realise that the Order decided to let Harry travel with Hagrid. The traitor had no time to correct this blunder and inform the Death Eaters about it. So, when I apparated to Kingsley's house and took the portkey, it brought me here instead of Harry. It was meant for Harry, not me. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I see it now."

Dread flooded her as the full impact of the recent events hit her. She was captured by the dark side. She did not dare to think about the consequences. Lord Voldemort would surely torture information out of her before killing her. She was a mudblood after all, and he hated mudbloods.

She would need to act fast. She needs to check to see whether Harry was safe, before seeking out the traitor.

She had a fairly good idea who the traitor was. It was so obvious. It was his idea after all that the Order resorts to this plan.

"Mundungus Fletcher," Hermione thought, anger rising up in her. "I will make sure that you made payment for your crime."

She strained her ears, listening hard. She still dare not open her eyes. She could not risk being discovered to be conscious. At least not just yet.

Judging by the silence, she gathered that Lord Voldemort and his followers had not returned from the chase. She hoped that this was a good sign. Perhaps the Order managed to bring some reinforcements. Perhaps some of the Death Eaters were killed, or busy fighting off the members of the Order.

She gathered that Lucius Malfoy would not dare do anything to her. He would probably leave her to be dealt with by his master. That man really has not many guts.

She would need to fight him if there was no other choice. She needs to get out of here before Voldemort and his followers returned.

She summoned her wand wordlessly. She had always hidden her wand in a holster, which was sewn into her right sleeve. No one will notice if she wordlessly summons it, as the wand would be in her palm in a heartbeat.

"Accio, wand!" she thought, waiting anxiously for the familiar vine wood wand to fall into her palm.

It did not happen. She waited for a while, and tried again.

"Accio, wand!"

Nothing happen.

With a pang of realisation, she figured that Lucius Malfoy must have taken her wand. But how would he know where she kept it? She had placed a glamour charm on her sleeve, so that no one would notice the holster sewn into her sleeve. Even if he could see through her glamour charm, he could not have possibly removed her wand. The wand only respond to her signature touch, as she had took the precaution of binding her magic to her wand. Only very powerful magic could surpass the enchantment she placed there and break it.

"All the Death Eaters are very accomplished and powerful. So no surprise there, Hermione," she thought.

"Voldemort could not have been back yet," she thought again. "It is so quiet here. If he is back, I am sure he will go on a torturing spree, if he didn't managed to get Harry. I am pretty sure he didn't. After all, Harry is the boy-who-lived. Perhaps he would get lucky again this time. Who knows?"

As she continues to lie on the rug, she pondered her next move. She would have to get out of here fast. But she was wandless.

"No matter," she thought. "I can force Malfoy to return my wand before apparating away from here. He would not believe what I would resort to in order to get back what is supposedly and rightfully mine. He'll see."

Taking a deep breath and preparing herself for her next move, she opened her eyes and gazed around the room.

She looked straight into a pair of gleaming red eyes which was all too familiar.

She froze.

Voldemort was towering above her, gazing down at her form, with a thoughtful expression on her face. He was holding his thirteen-and-a-half inches yew in one hand and twirling another wand which is also all too familiar in his other hand.

"Good evening, Hermione Jean Granger," he said, in the same soft and masculine voice she had heard in her dream. It sent chills down her spine and she shivered.


End file.
